Reflection Shards Poem by Christopher Parcels

I spent the evening cleaning up reflections
that were scattered, shattered on the bathroom floor.
I tried my hand at the reunification
of yeterday and today, of myself and the world.
But certainly tomorrow I will view myself again
in a thousand sharp-edged images
with no semblance of a common theme
with no reason for the rhyme
with no memory of the dream
embedded in the limestone.
So I shall spend another evening on my knees
in humble supplication to anyone
who can preserve me blameless,
and who will not be cut by these reflection-shards
that have scarred my withered hands.